EDWARD  SALISBURY  FIELD 


\ 


OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


ELIZABETH 


CUPID 


5 


UNDERSTl/DY 


BY 

EDWARD  SALISBURY  FIELD 

AUTHOR  OF 
"A  Six-Cylinder  Courtship" 


Illustrations  bjr 

WILL  GREFE 


\\ 

NEW  YORK 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1909 — BY 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 


Published  October 


21 29571 


CUPID'S  UNDERSTUDY 

Chapter  One, 

IF  Dad  had  been  a  coal  baron,  like 
Mr.  Tudor  Carstairs,  or  a  stock- water 
ing  captain  of  industry,  like  Mrs. 
Sanderson-Spear's  husband,  or  de 
scended  from  a  long  line  of  whisky 
distillers,  like  Mrs.  Carmichael  Por 
ter,  why,  then  his  little  Elizabeth 
(that's  me)  would  have  been  allowed 
to  sit  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful  with 
the  rest  of  the  Four  Hundred,  and 
this  story  would  never  have  been  writ 
ten.  But  Dad  wasn't  any  of  these 
l 


O/POX5     UNDERSTUDY* 

things;  he  was  just  an  old  love  who 
had  made  seven  million  dollars  by  the 
luckiest  fluke  in  the  world. 

Everybody  in  southern  California 
knew  it  was  a  fluke,  too,  so  the  seven 
millions  came  in  for  all  the  respect 
that  would  otherwise  have  fallen  to 
Dad.  Of  course  we  were  celebrities, 
in  a  way,  but  in  a  very  horrid  way. 
Dad  was  Old  Tom  Middleton,  who 
used  to  keep  a  livery-stable  in  San 
Bernardino,  and  I  was  Old  Tom  Mid- 
dleton's  girl,  "who  actually  used  to 
live  over  a  livery-stable,  my  dear!" 
It  sounds  fearfully  sordid,  doesn't  it? 

But  it  wasn't  sordid,  really,  for  I 

never  actually  lived  over  a  stable. 

Indeed,  we  had  the  sweetest  cottage 

in  all  San  Bernardino.     I  remember  it 

2 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

so  well :  the  long,  cool  porch,  the  won 
derful  gold-of-Ophir  roses,  the  honey 
suckle  where  the  linnets  nested,  the 
mocking  birds  that  sang  all  night 
long;  the  perfume  of  the  jasmine,  of 
the  orange-blossoms,  the  pink  flame  of 
the  peach  trees  in  April,  the  ever- 
changing  color  of  the  mountains. 
And  I  remember  Ninette,  my  little 
Creole  mother,  gay  as  a  butterfly,  care 
free  as  a  meadow-lark.  'Twas  she 
who  planted  the  jasmine.  * 

My  little  mother  died  when  I  was 
seven  years  old.  Dad  and  I  and  my 
old  black  mammy,  Rachel,  stayed  on 
in  the  cottage.  The  mocking-birds 
still  sang,  and  the  linnets  still  nested 
in  the  honeysuckle,  but  nothing  was 
ever  quite  the  same  again.  It  was 

3 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

like  a  different  world;  it  was  a  differ 
ent  world.  There  were  gold-of- 
Ophir  roses,  and  peach  blossoms  in 
April,  but  there  was  no  more  jasmine; 
Dad  had  it  all  dug  up.  To  this  day 
he  turns  pale  at  the  sight  of  it — poor 
Dad! 

When  I  was  twelve  years  old,  Dad 
sold  out  his  hardware  business,  intend 
ing  to  put  his  money  in  an  orange 
grove  at  Riverside,  but  the  nicest  liv 
ery-stable  in  San  Bernardino  hap 
pened  to  be  for  sale  just  then,  so  he 
bought  that  instead,  for  he  was  always 
crazy  about  horses. 

To  see  me  trotting  about  in  Paquin 
gowns  and  Doucet  models,  you'd 
never  think  I  owed  them  to  three  owl 
ish  little  burros,  would  you4?  But  it's 

4 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

a  fact.  When  Dad  took  over  the  liv 
ery-stable,  he  found  he  was  the  proud 
possessor  of  three  donkeys,  as  well  as 
some  twenty-odd  horses,  and  a  dozen 
or  so  buggies,  buckboards  and  surries. 
The  burros  ate  their  solemn  heads  off 
all  winter,  but  in  May  it  had  been  the 
custom  to  send  them  to  Strawberry 
Valley  in  charge  of  a  Mexican  who 
hired  them  out  to  the  boarders  at  the 
summer  hotel  there.  Luckily  for  us, 
when  Fortune  came  stalking  down 
the  main  street  of  San  Bernardino  to 
knock  at  the  door  of  the  Golden  Eagle 
Stables,  both  Dad  and  the  burros  were 
at  home.  If  either  had  been  out,  we 
might  be  poor  this  very  minute. 

It    is    generally    understood    that 
when  Fortune  goes  a-visiting,  she  goes 

5 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

disguised,  so  it's  small  wonder  Dad 
didn't  recognize  her  at  first.  She 
wasn't  even  a  "her";  she  was  a  he,  a 
great,  awkward  Swede  with  mouse- 
colored  hair  and  a  Yon  Yonsen  accent 
— you  know  the  kind — slow  to  anger, 
slow  to  everything,  without  a  "j"  in 
his  alphabet — by  the  name  of  Olaf 
Knutsen. 

Now  Olaf  was  a  dreamer.  Not  the 
conventional  sort  of  a  dreamer,  who 
sees  beauty  in  everything  but  an  hon 
est  day's  work,  but  a  brawny,  pick- 
swinging  dreamer  who  had  dug  holes 
in  the  ground  at  the  end  of  many  rain 
bows.  That  he  had  never  yet  uncov 
ered  the  elusive  pot  of  gold  didn't 
seem  to  bother  him  in  the  least;  for 
him,  that  tender  plant  called  Hope 
6 


OJPIffS     UNDERSTUDy 

flowered  perennially.  And  now  he 
was  bent  on  following  another  rain 
bow;  a  rainbow  which,  arching  over 
the  mountains,  ended  in  that  arid, 
pitiless  waste  known  in  the  south 
country  as  Death  Valley. 
«  He  wouldn't  fail  this  time.  No, 
by  Yimminy !  With  Dad's  three  bur 
ros,  and  plenty  of  bacon  and  beans 
and  water — it  was  to  be  a  grub-stake, 
of  course — he  would  make  both  their 
fortunes.  And  the  beautiful  part 
about  it  was,  he  did. 

No  doubt  you  have  heard  of  the 
famous  Golden  Eagle  mine.  Well, 
that's  what  Olaf  and  the  three  burros 
found  in  Death  Valley.  Good  old 
Olaf!  He  named  the  mine  after 
Dad's  livery-stable  in  San  Bernar- 

7 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

dino,  and  he  insisted  on  keeping  only 
a  half  interest,  even  though  Dad 
fought  him  about  it.  You  see,  Dad 
didn't  have  the  reputation  of  being 
the  squarest  man  in  San  Bernardino 
for  nothing. 


8 


Chapter  Two 

My  little  mother's  family  had  never 
approved  of  her  marriage  with  Dad, 
but  Dad,  poor  and  running  a  hard 
ware  shop  or  a  livery-stable,  and  Dad 
with  a  fortune  in  his  hands  were  two 
very  different  people — from  their 
standpoint,  at  least;  so  as  soon  as  Olaf 
and  the  three  burros  struck  it  rich,  Dad 
sold  his  livery-stable,  and  mammy 
Rachel  and  I  were  bundled  off  to  Ni 
nette's  relations  in  New  Orleans.  I 
didn't  like  it  a  bit  at  first,  but  one  can 
get  used  to  anything  in  time.  Ni- 
9 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

nette's  maiden  sister,  Miss  Marie 
Madeline  Antoinette  Hortense  Pre- 
vost,  was  awfully  nice  to  me;  so  was 
grandmere  Prevost.  I  lived  with 
them  till  I  was  sixteen,  when  I  was 
sent  to  France. 

If  I  wanted  to  (and  you  would  -let 
me)  I  could  personally  conduct  you  to 
Paris,  where  if  you  were  ten  feet  tall 
and  not  averse  to  staring,  you  could 
look  over  a  certain  gray  stone  wall  on 
the  Boulevard  des  Invalides,  and  see 
me  pacing  sedately  up  and  down  the 
gravel  walks  in  the  garden  of  the 
Convent  of  the  Sacred  Heart.  That 
is,  you  could  have  seen  me  three  years 
ago.  I'm  not  there  now,  thank  good 
ness!  I'm  in  California. 

And  just  one  word  before  we  go 
10 


\ 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

any  further.  I  don't  want  you  to 
think  for  a  minute  that  I  came  back 
from  Paris  a  little  Frenchified  miss. 
No,  indeed !  I'm  as  American  as  they 
make  them.  When  I  boasted  to  the 
other  girls,  whether  in  Paris  or  New 
Orleans,  I  always  boasted  about  two 
things:  Dad  and  California.  And 
I've  an  idea  I'll  go  on  boasting  about 
them  till  my  dying  day. 

Of  course,  when  I  returned  from 
Paris,  Dad  met  me  in  New  York.  It 
was  a  good  thing  he  was  rich,  for  it 
took  a  lot  of  money  to  get  me  and  my 
seven  trunks  through  the  custom 
house.  It  might  have  taken  more, 
though,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  a  young 
man  who  came  over  on  the  same 
boat. 

11 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

He  was  sucn  a  good-looking  young 
man;  tall  and  broad-shouldered  and 
fair,  with  beautiful  light-brown  hair, 
and  the  nicest  eyes  you  ever  saw.  It 
wasn't  their  color  so  much  (his  eyes 
were  blue)  as  the  way  they  looked  at 
you  that  made  them  so  attractive. 
He  was  awfully  well  bred,  too!  He 
noticed  me  a  lot  on  the  boat  (I  had  a 
perfect  love  of  a  Redfern  coat  to  wear 
on  deck) ,  but  he  didn't  try  to  scrape 
acquaintance  with  me.  He  wor 
shipped  from  afar  (a  woman  can  al 
ways  tell  when  a  man's  thinking  about 
her),  and  while  I  wouldn't  have  had 
him  act  otherwise  for  the  world,  I  was 
crazy  to  have  him  speak  to  me. 

Our  boat  docked  at  Hoboken,  and 
by  tipping  right  and  left  I  managed 
12 


WHILE  i  WOULDN'T  HAVE  HAD  HIM  ACT  OTHERWISK,  i  WAS  CRAZY 

TO    HAVE    HIM    SPEAK  TO    ME 

Page  '2 


to  be  the  very  first  passenger  down  the 
gangway.  I  half  ran,  half  slid,  but  I 
landed  in  Dad's  arms. 

My  boxes  and  bags  passed  through 
the  custom-house  with  flying  colors. 
But  my  trunks — I  couldn't  even  find 
them  all.  Five  of  them  were  stacked 
in  the  "M"  division,  but  the  other 
two.  .  .  .  Then  there  was  my 
maid's  trunk  to  look  for  under  the 
"V's"  (her  name  is  Valentine) .  Dad 
and  I  were  commencing  at  "A,"  pre 
pared  to  go  through  the  whole  alpha 
bet,  if  necessary,  when  the  nice  young 
man  stepped  up,  and,  raising  his  hat, 
asked  if  he  might  be  of  any  service. 
He  asked  Dad,  but  he  looked  at 
me. 

"Oh,  if  you  please!"  I  said,  "I've 
13 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

lost  two  trunks.     My  brand  is  a  white 
'M'  in  a  red  circle." 

"I  noticed  them  in  the  'R'  pile," 
he  replied.  'Til  have  them  moved  to 
the  'MY  right  away." 

"Now  that's  what  I  call  being  de 
cent,"  said  Dad,  as  soon  as  the  young 
man  had  left  us.  "Did  you  notice,  he 
didn't  wear  a  uniform?  Probably  an 
inspector,  or  something  of  the  sort,  eh, 
Elizabeth?" 

"Well — er — not  exactly,"  I  man 
aged  to  say.  "The  fact  is,  Dad,  he 
came  over  on  the  boat  with  me, 
and—" 

Dad  looked  thoughtful. 

"He  never  spoke  to  me  once  the 
whole  trip,"  I  added  hastily. 

Dad  looked  less  thoughtful. 
14 


CUPIffS     UNDERSTUDY 

"It  was  nice  of  him  to  wait  till  I 
had  you  with  me,  wasn't  it?" 

Dad  smiled.  "If  you  think  it  was, 
it  probably  was,  my  dear,"  he  said. 


Chapter  Three 

The  nice  young  man  did  more  than 
find  my  missing  trunks;  he  found  a 
custom-house  officer,  and,  after  asking 
me  privately  which  trunks  contained 
my  most  valuable  possessions  and  how 
much  I  had  thought  of  declaring,  he 
succeeded  in  having  them  passed 
through  on  my  own  valuation  without 
any  undue  exposure  of  their  contents. 

By  this  time  Dad  had  grown  very 
respectful.  To  see  his  little  Eliza 
beth  treated  like  a  queen,  while  on  all 
sides  angry  women  were  having  their 
16 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

best  gowns  pawed  over  and  mussed, 
was  a  most  wholesome  lesson.  He 
paid  the  thousand  and  odd  dollars 
duty  like  a  little  man. 

We'd  been  saved  a  lot  of  bother, 
and  nobody  hates  a  lot  of  bother  more 
than  Dad.  So  when  the  trunks  were 
locked  and  strapped  and  ready  to  be 
sent  to  our  hotel,  Dad  went  up  to  the 
nice  young  man  and  said :  "I'm  Tom 
Middleton,  from  California,  and  this 
is  my  daughter  Elizabeth.  We're 
both  very  grateful  to  you,  and  if  you 
should  ever  happen  to  come  to  Cali 
fornia,  I  hope  you'll  look  us  up." 

That's  Dad  all  over! 

I  never  saw  anybody  look  so  pleased 
as  the  young  man.  "My  name's  Por 
ter,"  he  said,  "Blakely  Porter.  If  my 

17 


UNDERSTUDY 


mother  were  in  New  York  I  would  ask 
if  she  might  call  on  Miss  Middleton, 
but,  as  it  happens,  she's  in  California, 
where  I  intend  to  join  her,  so  I  shall 
look  forward  to  seeing  you  there." 

Then  Dad  did  just  the  right  thing. 
"What's  the  use  of  waiting  till  we  get 
to  California?"  he  said.  "Why  not 
dine  with  us  to-night?" 

There  are  people,  merely  conven 
tional  people,  who  could  never  appre 
ciate  the  fine  directness  and  simplicity 
of  Dad's  nature  —  not  if  they  lived  to 
be  a  thousand  years  old.  But  Mr. 
Blakely  Porter  understood  perfectly; 
I  know  he  did  for  he  told  me  so  after 
wards. 

"It  was  the  greatest  compliment  I 
ever  had  paid  me  in  my  life,"  he  said. 
18 


ONE  COULDN'T  LOOK  AT  HTM  AND  DENY   HE  WAS  A  GENTLEMAN 

Page  /9 


"Your  father  knew  nothing  about  me, 
absolutely  nothing,  yet  he  invited  me 
to  dine  with  him — and  you.  It  was 
splendid,  splendid!" 

The  dear  boy  didn't  know,  perhaps, 
that  honesty  shone  in  his  eyes,  that  one 
could  not  look  at  him  and  deny  he 
was  a  gentleman.  And,  of  course,  I 
didn't  enlighten  him,  for  it  is  well  for 
men,  particularly,  young  men,  to  feel 
grateful,  and  the  least  bit  humble;  it 
keeps  them  from  being  spoiled. 

But  to  return  to  the  dinner  invita 
tion  :  Mr.  Porter  accepted  it  eagerly. 
"It  is  more  than  kind  of  you,"  he  said. 
"My  mother  is  away,  and  her  house  is 
closed.  It  is  my  first  home-coming  in 
four  years,  and  I  should  have  been 
lonely  to-night." 

19 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

And  poor  Dad,  who  has  been  lonely 
• — oh,  so  lonely! — ever  since  Ninette 
died,  shook  hands  with  him,  and  said : 
"If  my  daughter  and  I  can  keep  you 
from  feeling  lonely,  we  shall  be  so 
glad.  We  are  stopping  at  The  Plaza, 
and  we  dine  at  half  past  seven." 

Then  Mr.  Porter  found  us  a  taxi- 
cab,  and  away  we  went. 

It  was  good  to  be  in  America  again. 
I  made  Dad  stop  the  car,  and  have  the 
top  put  back,  even  though  it  was  freez 
ing  cold,  for  I  had  never  been  in  New 
York  before  (when  I'd  gone  to  France, 
I  had  sailed  from  New  Orleans)  and 
I  Wanted  to  see  everything.  The  tall 
buildings,  the  elevated,  even  the  bad 
paving  till  we  got  to  Fifth  Avenue, 
interested  me  immensely,  as  they 
20 


would  any  one  to  whom  Paris  had 
been  home,  and  New  York  a  foreign 
city.  Not  that  I  had  ever  thought  of 
Paris  as  my  real  home;  home  was 
where  my  heart  was — with  Dad.  I 
tried  to  make  him  understand  how 
happy  I  was  to  be  with  him,  how  I  had 
missed  him,  and  California. 

"So  you  missed  your  old  father,  did 
you,  girlie?" 

"Yes,  Dad." 

"And  you'll  be  glad  to  go  to  Cal 
ifornia?" 

"Oh,  so  glad!" 

"Then,"  said  Dad,  "we'll  start  to 


morrow.'1 


X 

Our  rooms  at  the  hotel  were  perfect ; 
there  was  a  bed  room  and  bath  for  me, 
21 


OJPIffS     UNDERSTUDY* 

a  bed  room  and  bath  for  Dad,  with 
a  sitting  room  between,  all  facing  the 
Park.  And  there  were  roses  every 
where;  huge  American  Beauties,  dear, 
wee,  pink  roses,  roses  of  flaming  red. 
I  turned  to  Dad,  who  was  standing  in 
the  middle  of  the  sitting  room,  beam 
ing  at  me.  "You  delightful  old 
spendthrift!"  I  cried.  "What  do  you 
mean  by  buying  millions  of  roses? 
And  in  the  middle  of  January  too! 
You  deserve  to  be  disciplined,  and 
you  shall  be." 

"Discipline  is  an  excellent  thing, 
even  if  it  does  disturb  the  set  of  one's 
tie,"  Dad  remarked  thoughtfully,  a 
moment  later. 

"I  couldn't  help  hugging  you, 
Daddy." 

22 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

"My  dear,  that  hug  of  yours  was 
the  sweetest  thing  that  has  happened 
to  your  dad  in  many  a  long  year." 

And  then,  of  course,  I  had  to  hug 
him  again. 

After  luncheon  (we  had  it  in  our 
sitting  room)  Dad  asked  if  I  would 
enjoy  a  drive  through  the  Park. 

"I  should  enjoy  it  immensely,"  I 
said,  "but  I  can't  possibly  go." 

You  see,  there  was  a  trunk  to  un 
pack,  the  one  holding  my  prettiest 
dinner  gown.  Of  course  Valentine 
was  quite  capable  of  attending  to  the 
unpacking.  Still,  one  likes  to  inspect 
everything  one  is  to  wear,  especially 
when  one  is  expecting  a  guest  to  din 
ner. 

23 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

"Then,"  said  Dad,  "I  think  I'll 
order  dinner,  and  go  for  a  walk. 
Shall  we  have  dinner  here*?" 

"Oh,  by  all  means!  This  is  so 
much  more  homelike  than  a  public 
dining  room." 

"I'll  not  be  gone  more  than  an  hour 
or  two.  .  .  .  Hullo!  Come  in." 

A  small  boy  entered,  carrying  a  box 
quite  as  big  as  himself.  "For  Miss 
Middleton,"  he  said. 

"Another  present  from  you,  Dad?" 

"Open  it,  my  dear." 

"I  thought  so,"  he  remarked,  as  the 
removal  of  the  cover  displayed  more 
American  Beauties.  (There  were 
five  dozen;  I  counted  them  after  Dad 
had  gone.  "Another  million  roses! 
And  in  the  middle  of  January! 
24 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

Who's  the  spendthrift  this  time,  Eliz 
abeth4?" 

"His  name,"  I  said,  slipping  a  card 
from  the  envelope  that  lay  on  a  huge 
bow  of  red  ribbon,  "is  Mr.  Blakely 
Porter." 

Although  I  know,  now,  there  are 
many  things  more  beautiful,  I  be 
lieved,  then,  that  nothing  more  beau 
tiful  had  ever  happened;  for  it  was 
the  first  time  a  man  had  ever  sent  me 
roses.  Nineteen  years  old,  and  my 
first  roses !  They  made  me  so  happy. 
Paris  seemed  very  far  away;  the  con 
vent  was  a  mythical  place  I  had  seen 
in  a  dream;  nothing  was  real  but  Dad, 
'and  America,  and  the  roses  somebody 
had  sent.  Somebody ! 


Chapter  Four 

Mr.  Porter  arrived  on  time  to  the 
minute,  looking  perfectly  splendid  in 
a  wonderful  fur-lined  coat.  And  if 
his  eyes  were  anxious,  and  his  manner 
a  bit  constrained  at  first,  it  didn't  last 
long;  Dad's  greeting  was  too  cordial 
not  to  make  him  feel  at  home.  In 
deed,  he  talked  delightfully  all 
through  dinner,  and  with  the  coffee, 
half  laughingly,  half  apologizingly, 
told  us  the  story  of  his  life.  "For," 
said  he,  "although  I  feel  as  if  I'd 
known  you  always,"  (he  looked  at 
26 


HALF    LAUGHINGLY,  HALF    A  POI.OGI7.INGLY,  TOLD    US    THE 
STORY   OF    HIS   LIFE 

Pat:*  2t) 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

Dad,  but  I  was  sure  he  meant  me,  too) 
"you  may  not  feel  the  same  in  regard 
to  me — and  I  want  you  to." 

It  was  sweet  to  see  Dad  grow  al 
most  boyish  in  his  insistence  that  he 
felt  as  Mr.  Porter  did.  "Nonsense!" 
he  said.  "It  seems  the  most  natural 
thing  in  the  world  to  have  you  here. 
Doesn't  it  Elizabeth?" 

It  was  rather  embarrassing  to  be 
asked  such  a  question  in  Mr.  Porter's 
presence,  but  I  managed  to  murmur  a 
weak  "Yes,  indeed!"  Inside,  though, 
I  felt  just  as  Dad  did,  and  I  was  fear 
fully  interested  in  Mr.  Porter's  ac 
count  of  himself.  I  could  see,  too, 
that  he  belittled  the  real  things,  and 
magnified  the  unimportant.  Accord 
ing  to  his  narrative,  the  unimportant 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

things  were  that  he  was  a  civil 
engineer,  that  he  had  been  in  Peru 
building  a  railroad  for  an  English 
syndicate,  and  that  the  railroad  was 
now  practically  completed ;  he  seemed, 
however,  to  attach  great  importance 
to  the  cable  that  had  called  him  to 
London  to  appear  before  a  board  of 
directors,  for  that  had  been  the  indi 
rect  means  of  his  taking  passage  on  the 
same  ship  with  me.  Then  there  was 
the  wonderful  fact  that  he  was  to  see 
us  in  California.  He  had  been  in 
harness  now  for  four  years,  he  said, 
and  he  felt  as  if  he'd  earned  a  vaca 
tion.  At  all  events,  he  meant  to  take 
one. 

As  neither  he  nor  Dad  would  hear 
of  my  leaving  them  to  their  cigars, 
28 


CUPIffS     UNDERSTUDY 

I  sat  by  and  listened,  and  loved  it  all, 
every  minute  of  it.  I  didn't  know, 
then  (I  don't  know  to  this  day) 
whether  I  liked  Mr.  Porter  best  for 
being  so  boyish,  or  so  manly.  But 
manly  men  who  retain  all  the  enthu 
siasms  of  youth  have  a  certain  charm 
one  likes  instinctively,  I  think. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Mr.  Porter 
quite  captivated  Dad.  :'You  make 
me  feel  like  a  boy,"  he  said,  after  lis 
tening  to  a  delightfully  whimsical 
account  of  conditions  in  Peru.  "By 
George,  that's  a  country  for  you! 
And  Ecuador,  I've  always  thought 
that  must  be  an  interesting  place. 
Have  you  ever  been  there?" 

Yes,  Mr.  Porter  had  been  to  Ecua 
dor.  And  there  was  a  certain  rail- 
29 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

road  in  India  he  had  helped  put 
through.  India!  Now  that  was  a 
place!  Had  Dad  ever  been  to 
India?' 

No,  Dad  had  never  been  to  India, 
but.  .  .  .  "Good  Lord,  boy,  how 
old  are  you,  anyway*?" 

"Thirty-two." 

"Well,  I  never  would  have  guessed 
it.  Would  you,  Elizabeth?" 

This,  too,  was  rather  embarrassing, 
but  I  managed  to  say  I  thought  Mr. 
Porter  didn't  look  a  day  over  twenty- 
eight. 

"It's  the  life  he  leads,"  Dad  de 
clared  with  an  air  of  proprietorship— 
"out  of  doors  all  day  long.     It  must 
be  great!" 

30 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

"It  is  interesting.  But  I  think  I 
like  it  best  for  what  it  has  done  for 
me;  you  see,  I  was  supposed  to  have 
lungs  once,  long  ago.  Now  I'm  as 
sound  as  a  dollar." 

"He  looks  it,  doesn't  he,  Eliza 
beth?" 

If  Dad  hadn't  been  such  a  dear,  I 
should  have  been  annoyed  by  his  con 
stant  requests  for  my  opinion  where 
it  was  so  obviously  unnecessary.  But 
Dad  is  such  a  dear.  To  make  it  worse, 
Mr.  Porter  seemed  to  consider  that 
whether  he  was,  or  was  not,  as  sound 
as  a  dollar,  depended  entirely  on 
my  answer. 

"One  would  think  I  was  a  sort  of 
supreme  court  from  the  way  Dad  re- 

31 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

fers  all  questions  to  me.  But  I  warn 
you,  Mr.  Porter;  my  'yes'  or  'no'  makes 
little  difference  in  his  opinions." 

'You  are  my  supreme  court,  and 
they  do,"  declared  Dad. 

"I'm  sure  they  do,"  said  Mr.  Porter. 

"When  the  novelty  of  having  me 
with  you  has  worn  off,  you'll  be  your 
same  old  domineering  self,  Daddy 
dear." 

"Domineering*?  Hear  the  minx! 
I'm  a  regular  lamb,  Porter.  That  re 
minds  me:  When  are  you  going  to 
California?' 

"I  hadn't  thought.  That  is,  I  had 
thought  .  .  .  That  is,  I've 
wished  .  .  .  I  mean  I've  won 
dered  ...  I  hope  you  won't 
think  me  presumptuous,  Mr.  Middle- 
32 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

ton,  but  I've  wondered  if  you'd  allow 
me  to  go  on  the  same  train  with  you 
and  Miss  Middleton." 

"Why,  my  dear  boy,  we'd  be  de 
lighted.  Wouldn't  we,  Elizabeth'?" 

Mr.  Porter  turned  to  me.  "You 
see,  Miss  Middleton,  you  are  the  su 
preme  court,  after  all,"  his  lips  said. 
But  his  eyes  told  me  why  he  wanted 
to  go  on  the  same  train  with  Dad  and 
me,  told  me  plainer  than  words.  Per 
haps  I  should  have  remembered  I  had 
never  spoken  to  him  till  that  morning, 
but.  . 

"The  supreme  court  congratulates 
the  inferior  court  on  the  wisdom  of 
its  decision,"  I  said,  with  an  elaborate 
bow  to  Dad  to  hide  my  confusion. 

"It's  settled  ."'cried  Dad. 

33 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

"This  is  quite  the  nicest  thing  that 
ever  happened,"  said  Mr.  Porter.  "If 
only  you  knew  how  grateful  I  am.  I 
feel  like — like  giving  three  cheers, 
and  tossing  my  hat  in  the  air." 

"The  inferior  court  rules  against 
hat-tossing  as  irrelevant,  immaterial, 
and  incompetent." 

"Ruling  sustained,"  I  said. 

"And  they  call  this  a  free  country!" 

"The  newspapers  don't.  Read  the 
newspapers,  my  boy." 

"At  any  rate,  I  now  belong  to  the 
privileged  class.  When  do  we  leave, 
Mr.  MiddletonT 

"Elizabeth  says  to-morrow.  We 
go  by  rather  a  slow  train." 

"But  why?"  I  began. 

"Because,    my    dear,    an    all-wise 

34 


Providence  has  decreed  that  express 
trains  shall  not  haul  private  cars." 

"Oh,  I  say!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Porter. 
"That  makes  all  the  difference  in  the 
world." 

"Only  a  day's  difference." 

"I  mean     .     .     ." 

"You're  going  as  our  guest,  you 
know." 

"But  really,  Mr.  Middleton,  I 
never  .  .  ." 

"Don't  be  absurd,  my  boy." 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Blakely  Porter,  "I 
won't  be  absurd.  I  shall  be  more  than 
glad  to  go  as  your  guest." 

"That's  the  way  it  should  be.  Isn't 
it,  Elizabeth?" 

"I  didn't  know  you  owned  a  private 
car,  Dad." 

35 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY9 

"Pshaw!"  said  Dad.  "What's  a 
private  car?" 

I  smiled  at  what  I  was  pleased  to 
term  "Dad's  magnificence,"  little 
thinking  I  was  soon  to  look  on  private 
cars  as  one  of  the  most  delectable  of 
modern  inventions. 


Chapter  Five 

Our  train  left  Grand  Central  Sta 
tion  at  two  o'clock  next  afternoon;  it 
was  bitter  cold,  I  remember,  and  I 
drove  to  the  station,  smothered  in 
furs.  But  our  car  was  wonderfully 
cozy  and  comfortable,  and  it  warmed 
my  heart  to  see  how  proud  Dad  was 
of  it :  I  must  inspect  the  kitchen ;  this 
was  my  stateroom,  did  I  like  it?  I 
mustn't  judge  Amos  by  his  appear 
ance,  but  the  way  he  could  cook — he 
was  a  wonder  at  making  griddle  cakes. 
Did  I  still  like  griddle  cakes?  "And 

37 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

do  look  at  the  books  and  magazines 
Mr.  Porter  brought.  And  a  box  of 
chocolates,  too.  Wasn't  it  kind  of 
him?"  Dear  Dad!  He  was  like  a 
child  with  a  new  toy. 

I'm  sure  he  enjoyed  every  minute 
of  the  trip.  Mr.  Porter  played  crib- 
bage  with  him  (Dad  adores  cribbage) 
by  the  hour;  they  talked  railroads,  and 
politics,  and  mining — I  don't  think 
Dad  had  been  so  happy  in  years.  I 
know  I  had  never  been  so  happy,  for 
I  was  sure  Mr.  Porter  loved  me.  I 
couldn't  help  being  sure;  his  heart  was 
in  his  eyes  every  time  he  looked  at 
me. 

When  we  started  from  New  York, 
we  were  Mr.  Middleton,  and  Mr.  Por 
ter,  and  Miss  Middleton  to  one  an- 

38 


other;  at  Chicago,  it  was  Tom,  and 
Blakely,  and  Miss  Middleton;  I  be 
came  Elizabeth  in  Utah  (I  made  him 
call  me  that) .  And  when  we  reached 
Nevada  .  .  . 

It  happened  so  naturally,  so 
sweetly.  Dad  was  taking  a  nap  af 
ter  luncheon,  and  Blakely  and  I  were 
sitting  on  the  rear  platform  of  our  car, 
the  last  car  in  the  train.  It  was  a 
heavenly  day  of  blue  sky  and  sun 
shine;  the  desert  was  fresh  from  re 
cent  rain.  And  then  a  few,  dear, 
faltered  words  changed  the  desert  into 
a  garden  that  reached  to  the  rim  of 
the  world. 

"I  love  you.  I  didn't  mean  to 
tell  you  quite  yet,  but  I  ...  I 


39 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

"I  know.  And  it  makes  me  so 
happy." 

•         ••••• 

You  never  saw  anybody  so  de 
lighted  as  Dad  was  when  we  told 
him.  "This  makes  me  glad  clear 
through,"  he  said.  "Blakely,  boy,  I 
couldn't  love  you  more  if  you  were 
my  own  son.  Elizabeth,  girl,  come 
and  kiss  your  old  Daddy." 

"And  you  aren't  surprised, 
Dad?" 

"Not  a  bit." 

"He's  known  I've  loved  you,  all 
along.  Haven't  you,  Tom?" 

"I  may  have  suspected  it." 

"But  I'm  sure  he  never  dreamed  I 
could  possibly  care  for  you,"  I  said. 
And  then,  because  I  was  too  happy 
40 


to  do  anything  else,  I  went  to  my  state 
room,  and  had  a  good  cry. 

I  have  read  somewhere  that  Love 
would  grow  old  were  it  not  for  the 
tears  of  happy  women. 


Chapter  Six 

When  we  flew  down  the  grade  into 
California,  everything  seemed  settled; 
we  were  going  to  Santa  Barbara  where 
Dad  was  building  a  little  palace  for 
his  Elizabeth  as  a  grand  surprise 
(Blakely's  mother  was  in  Santa  Bar 
bara)  ;  we  would  take  rooms  at  the 
same  hotel;  I  would  be  presented  to 
Mrs.  Porter,  and  as  soon  as  the  palace 
on  the  hill  was  completed — a  matter 
of  two  or  three  months — Blakely,  and 
Dad,  and  I  would  move  into  it. 
Only,  first,  Blakely  and  I  were  going 
42 


CUPI&S     UNDERSTUDY 

to  San  Bernardino  on  our  wedding 
trip. 

Wasn't  that  sweet  of  Blakely? 
When  I  told  him  about  San  Ber 
nardino,  and  the  livery-stable,  and  the 
cottage  where  Dad  and  I  used  to  live, 
he  said  he'd  rather  spend  our  honey 
moon  there  than  any  place  in  the 
world.  Of  course  Dad  had  never  sold 
the  cottage,  and  it  was  touching  to 
see  how  pleased  he  was  with  our  plan. 

''You'll  find  everything  in  first- 
class  condition,"  he  said;  "I  go  there 
often  myself.  I  built  a  little  house 
in  one  corner  of  the  garden  for  the 
caretakers.  You  should  see  that  gold- 
of-Ophir  rose,  Elizabeth;  it  has  grown 
beyond  belief." 

When  we  reached  Oakland — where 

43 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

our  car  had  to  be  switched  off  and 
attached  to  a  coast  line  train — we 
found  we  had  four  hours  to  kill,  so 
Dad  and  Blakely  and  I  (it  was 
Blakely's  idea)  caught  the  boat  across 
to  San  Francisco. 

What  do  you  suppose  that  dear  boy 
wanted  us  to  go  over  there  for?  And 
where  do  you  suppose  he  took  us? 
He  took  us  straight  to  Shreve's,  and 
he  and  Dad  spent  a  beautiful  two 
hours  in  choosing  an  engagement  ring 
for  me.  So  when  we  finally  landed 
in  Santa  Barbara  I  was  wearing  a  per 
fect  love  of  a  ruby  on  the  third  finger 
of  my  left  hand.  I  was  wearing  my 
heart  on  my  sleeve,  too;  I  didn't  care 
if  all  the  world  saw  that  I  adored 
Blakely. 

44 


GUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

We  arrived  in  Santa  Barbara  in  the 
morning,  and  it  was  arranged  that 
Blakely  should  lunch  with  his  mother 
and  devote  himself  to  her  during  the 
afternoon,  but  he  was  to  dine  with  us 
in  our  rooms.  Naturally,  I  had  a  lot 
to  do,  supervising  the  unpacking  of 
my  clothes,  and  straightening  things 
about  in  our  sitting-room  so  that  it 
wouldn't  look  too  hotelish.  Then 
Dad  wouldn't  be  happy  till  I'd  in 
spected  my  new  palace  on  the  hill. 

It  was  an  alarming  looking  pile. 
If  anybody  but  Dad  had  been  respon 
sible  for  it,  I  should  have  said  it  was 
hideous.  Poor  old  Dad !  He  knows 
absolutely  nothing  about  architecture. 
But  of  course  I  raved  over  it,  and, 
really,  when  I  came  to  examine  it 

45. 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

closer.  I  found  it  had  its  good  points. 
Covered  with  vines,  it  would  have 
been  actually  beautiful.  Virginia 
creeper  grows  like  mad  in  California, 
and  with  English  ivy  and  Lady  Bank- 
sia  roses  to  help  out,  I  was  sure  I  could 
transform  my  palace  into  a  perfect 
bower  in  almost  no  time.  I  was  aw 
fully  glad  I  had  seen  it  first,  for  now 
I  could  break  the  bad  news  gently  to 
Blakely.  If  I  were  a  man.  I  couldn't 
love  a  girl  who  owned  such  a  hideous 
house. 

But  I  didn't  have  a  chance  to  talk 
house  to  Blakely  for  some  time. 
When  he  came  in  to  dinner  that  night 
he  looked  awfully  depressed;  he 
brightened  up  a  lot,  though,  when  he 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

saw  me.  I  had  on  my  most  becoming 
gown,  and  Dad  had  ordered  a  grand 
dinner,  including  his  own  special 
brand  of  Burgundy.  If  Dad  knew 
as  much  about  architecture  as  he  does 
about  wine,  they'd  insist  on  his  de 
signing  all  the  buildings  for  the  next 
world's  fair. 

All  through  dinner  Blakely  wasn't 
quite  himself — I  could  see  it;  I  think 
Dad  saw  it,  too — but  I  knew  he  would 
tell  us  what  was  the  matter  as  soon 
as  he  had  an  opportunity.  One  of 
the  sweetest  things  about  Blakely  is 
his  perfect  frankness.  I  couldn't  love 
a  man  who  wasn't  frank  with  me. 
That  is,  I  suppose  I  could,  but  I  should 
hate  to;  it  would  break  my  heart. 

47 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

Well,  after  dinner,  when  Dad  had 
lighted  his  cigar,  and  Blakely  his  cig 
arette,  it  all  came  out. 

"Tom!" 

"Yes,  my  boy."  (I  think  Dad 
loved  to  hear  Blakely  say  Tom  almost 
as  much  as  I  loved  to  hear  him  say 
Elizabeth.) 

"Tom,  I've  got  you  and  Elizabeth 
into  a  deuce  of  an  unpleasant  position. 
I've  told  you  what  a  fine  woman  my 
mother  is,  and  how  she'd  welcome 
Elizabeth  with  open  arms,  and  now  I 
find  I  was  all  wrong.  My  mother 
isn't  a  fine  woman;  she's  an  ancestor- 
worshiping,  heartless,  selfish  snob. 
I'm  ashamed  of  her,  Tom.  She — she 
— she  refuses  to  meet  Elizabeth!' 


Chapter  Seven 

I  never  was  so  sorry  for  anybody 
in  my  whole  life  as  I  was  for  Blakely; 
I  would  have  done  anything  to  have 
saved  him  the  bitterness  and  humilia 
tion  of  that  moment.  As  for  Dad,  he 
couldn't  understand  it  at  all.  That 
Blakely's  mother  should  refuse  to 
meet  his  Elizabeth  was  quite  beyond 
his  comprehension. 

"This  is  very  strange,"  he  said, 
"very  strange.  There  must  be  some 
mistake.  Why  shouldn't  she  meet 
Elizabeth?' 

49 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY" 

"There  is  no  reason  in  the  world," 
Blakely  answered. 

'Then  why—?" 

"She  probably  has  other  plans  for 
her  son,  Daddy  dear,"  I  said.  "And 
no  doubt  she  has  heard  that  we're  fear 
fully  vulgar." 

"Well,  we  ain't,"  said  Dad  in  a  re 
lieved  voice;  "and  as  for  those  plans 
of  hers,  I  reckon  she'll  have  to  out 
grow  them.  Buck  up,  my  boy !  One 
look  at  Elizabeth  will  show  her  she's 
mistaken." 

"You  don't  know  my  mother," 
Blakely  replied;  "I  feel  that  I  haven't 
known  her  till  now.  It's  out  of  the 
question,  our  staying  here  after  what 
has  happened.  Let's  go  up  to  Del 
Monte,  and  let's  not  wait  four  months 

50 


CUPI0S     UNDERSTUDY* 

for  the  wedding.  Why  can't  we  be 
married  this  week  *?  I'm  done  with  my 
mother  and  with  the  whole  tribe  of 
Porters;  they're  not  my  kind,  and  you 
and  Elizabeth  are. 

"Tom,  I  never  felt  that  I  had  a 
father  till  I  found  you.  Elizabeth, 
girl,  I  never  knew  what  happiness  was 
till  you  told  me  you  loved  me.  My 
mother  says  she  would  never  consent 
to  her  son's  marrying  the  daughter  of 
a  man  who  has  kept  a  livery-stable. 
I  say  that  I'm  done  with  a  family  that 
made  its  money  out  of  whisky.  My 
mother's  father  was  a  distiller,  her 
grandfather  was  a  distiller,  and  if 
there's  any  shame,  it's  mine,  for  by  all 
the  standards  of  decency,  a  livery-sta 
ble  is  a  hundred  times  more  respect- 


OJPIlfS     UNDERSTUDY* 

able  than  a  warehouse  full  of  whisky. 
You  made  your  money  honestly,  but 
ours  has  been  wrung  out  of  the  poor, 
the  sick,  the  ragged,  the  distressed. 
The  whisky  business  is  a  rotten  busi 
ness,  Tom — rotten ! 

"It  was  whisky  that  bought  an  am 
bassadorship  for  my  mother's  brother; 
it  was  whisky  that  paid  for  the  French 
count  my  sister  married;  it  was  whisky 
that  sent  me  to  college.  Whisky, 
whisky — always  whisky! 

"I  never  thought  twice  about  it  be 
fore,  but  I've  done  some  tall  thinking 
to-day.  I'm  done  with  the  Porters, 
root  and  branch.  Elizabeth  and  I 
are  going  to  start  a  little  family  tree 
of  our  own,  and  we're  not  going  to 

52 


OJPIffS     UNDERSTUDY 

root  it  in  a  whisky  barrel,  either. 
We're— we're— " 

'There,  there !"  said  Dad.  "It's  all 
right,  Blakely,  boy.  It  ain't  so  bad 
as  you  think.  You  ain't  going  to 
throw  your  mother  over  and  your 
mother  ain't  going  to  throw  you  over. 
I  take  it  that  all  mothers  are  alike; 
they  love  their  sons.  Naturally, 
you're  sore  and  disappointed  now,  but 
I  reckon  that  mother  of  yours  is  sore 
and  disappointed,  too.  As  for  our 
going  to  Del  Monte,  I  never  heard  of 
a  Middleton  yet  that  cut  and  ran  at  a 
time  like  this,  and  Elizabeth  and  I 
ain't  going  to  start  any  precedent. 

"No,  my  boy,  we're  going  to  stay 
right  here,  and  you're  going  to  stay 

53 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

here  with  us.  There's  lots  of  good 
times  ahead  for  you  and  Elizabeth, 
and,  in  the  meantime,  I  want  you  to  be 
mighty  sweet  to  that  mother  of  yours. 
She's  the  only  mother  you've  got,  boy. 
You  don't  know  what  it  means  for  us 
old  folks  to  be  disappointed  in  our 
children.  Now,  don't  disappoint  me, 
lad.  You  be  nice  to  that  mother  of 
yours,  and  keep  on  loving  Elizabeth, 
and  it  will  all  come  right,  you  see  if  it 
don't.  If  it  don't  come  one  way,  it 
will  come  another;  you  can  take  my 
word  for  it." 

As  if  Dad  knew  anything  about  it. 
He  thought  then  that  every  woman 
possessed  a  sweet  mind  and  a  loving 
heart;  he  thinks  so  now.  But  one 
glimpse  of  Blakely's  mother  was 

54 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

enough  for  me.  She  had  a  heart  of 
stone;  everything  about  her  was  mili 
tant,  uncompromising;  her  eyes  were 
of  a  piercing,  steely  blue;  the  gowns 
she  wore  were  insolently  elegant;  she 
radiated  a  superb  self-satisfaction. 
When  she  looked  at  you  through  her 
lorgnette,  you  felt  as  if  you  were  on 
trial  for  your  life.  When  she  ceased 
looking,  you  knew  you  were  sentenced 
to  mount  the  social  scaffold.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  Blakely  and  Dad,  I 
should  have  died  of  rage  during  the 
first  two  weeks  of  our  stay  in  Santa 
Barbara. 

It  was  a  cruel  position  for  me,  and  it 
didn't  make  it  easier  that  before  we 
had  been  there  three  days  the  whole 
hotel  was  talking  about  it.  Of  course, 

55 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

every  woman  in  the  hotel  who  had 
been  snubbed  by  Blakely's  mother  in 
stantly  took  my  part,  and  as  there 
were  only  two  women  who  hadn't  been 
snubbed  by  her — Mrs.  Tudor  Car- 
stairs  and  Mrs.  Sanderson-Spear — I 
was  simply  overwhelmed  with  unsolic 
ited  advice  and  undesirable  attention. 
Indeed,  it  was  all  I  could  do  to 
steer  a  dignified  course  between  that 
uncompromising  Scylla,  Blakely's 
mother,  and  the  compromising  Cha- 
rybdis  of  my  self-elected  champions. 
But  I  managed  it,  somehow.  Dad 
bought  me  a  stunning  big  automobile 
in  Los  Angeles,  and  Blakely  taught 
me  how  to  run  it;  then,  Blakely  was 
awfully  fond  of  golf,  and  we  spent 
loads  of  time  at  the  Country  Club. 

56 


CUPIffS     UNDERSTUDY 

And  of  course  there  was  the  palace  on 
the  hill  to  be  inspected  every  little 
while. 

Poor  Blakely !  How  he  did  hate  it 
all !  Again  and  again  he  begged  Dad 
to  give  his  consent  to  our  marrying  at 
once.  But  Dad,  as  unconscious  of 
what  was  going  on  round  him  as  a 
two-months-old  baby,  would  always 
insist  that  everything  would  come  out 
all  right. 

"Give  her  time,  my  boy,"  he  would 
say,  "give  her  time.  Your  mother 
isn't  used  to  our  Western  way  of  rush 
ing  things,  and  she  wants  a  little  time 
to  get  used  to  it." 

"What  if  she  never  gets  used  to 
it?"  Blakely  would  ask. 

Then  Dad  would  answer:  "You're 

57 


\ 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

impatient,  boy;  all  lovers  are  impa 
tient.  Don't  I  know?' 

"But  things  can't  go  on  this  way 
forever." 

"Of  course  they  can't,"  Dad  would 
agree.  "When  I  think  things  have 
gone  long  enough,  I'll  have  a  little 
talk  with  your  mother  myself.  She's 
a  dashed  fine-looking  woman,  your 
mother — a  dashed  fine-looking  wom 
an  !  Be  patient  with  her,  boy." 

Poor  Dad !  Blakely  and  I  were  re 
solved  that  he  should  never  have  that 
little  talk  he  spoke  of  with  so  much 
confidence.  Ideals  are  awfully  in 
the  way  sometimes,  but  nobody  with  a 
speck  of  decency  can  bear  to  stand  by 
and  see  them  destroyed.  Dad's 
ideals  had  to  be  preserved  at  any  price. 

58 


Chapter  Eight 

And  so  another  two  weeks  passed. 
Then,  one  day,  a  comet  of  amazing 
brilliancy  shot  suddenly  into  our  so 
cial  orbit,  and  things  happened. 
That  this  interesting  stellar  phenom 
enon  was  a  Russian  grand  duke,  a 
nephew  of  the  Czar,  but  added  to  the 
piquancy  of  the  situation. 

The  hotel  was  all  in  a  flutter;  the 
manager  was  beside  himself  with  joy; 
bell-boys  danced  jig  steps  in  the  cor 
ridors;  chambermaids  went  about  with 
a  distracted  air — and  all  because  the 

59 


CUPID'S 


grand  duke,  Alexander  Melovich,  was 
to  arrive  on  the  morrow.  It  was  an 
epoch-making  event.  It  was  better 
than  a  circus,  for  it  was  free.  Copies 
of  the  Almanack  de  Gotha  appeared, 
as  if  by  magic.  Everybody  was  inter 
ested.  Everybody  was  charmed,  un- 
til- 

The  rumor  flew  rapidly  along  the 
verandas.  It  was  denied  by  the  head 
waiter,  it  was  confirmed  by  the  chief 
clerk;  it  was  referred  to  the  manager 
himself  and  again  confirmed.  Alas, 
it  was  true  !  The  Grand  Duke  Alex 
ander  was  coming,  not  to  honor  the 
hotel,  but  to  honor  Mrs.  Carmichael 
Porter;  she  would  receive  him  as  her 
guest,  she  would  pay  the  royal  hotel 
bill,  she  would  pay  the  bills  of  the 
60 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

royal  suite.  Yes,  Blakely's  mother 
had  captured  the  grand  duke. 

A  wave  of  indignation  swept  the 
columns  of  the  rank  and  file.  They 
didn't  want  the  grand  duke  them 
selves,  but  they  didn't  want  Blakely's 
mother  to  have  him;  Blakely's  mother 
and  Mrs.  Sanderson-Spear,  and  Mrs. 
Tudor  Carstairs.  In  a  way,  it  was 
better  than  a  comic  opera;  it  was  fear 
fully  amusing. 

The  grand  duke,  accompanied,  ac 
cording  to  the  newspapers,  "by  the 
Royal  Suite  and  the  Choicest  Flower 
of  San  Francisco  Society,"  arrived  on 
a  special  train  direct  from  Del  Monte. 
Having  captured  a  grand  duke,  these 
"Choicest  Flowers"  (ten  in  number) 
were  loath  to  lose  him,  so  they  accom- 
61 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

panied  him.  They  did  more;  they 
paid  for  the  special  train.  Blakely's 
mother  greeted  them,  one  and  all,  in 
a  most  friendly  manner.  There  was 
an  aristocratic  air  about  the  whole  pro 
ceeding  that  was  distinctly  uplifting. 
And  now  began  a  round  of  gaieties, 
the  first  being  a  tea  where  real  Rus 
sian  samovars  were  in  evidence,  and 
sandwiches  of  real  Russian  caviar 
were  served.  Real  Russian  cigarettes 
were  smoked,  real  Russian  vodka  was 
sipped;  the  Czar's  health  was  drunk; 
no  bombs  were  thrown,  no  bonds 
were  offered  for  sale,  the  Russian  loan 
was  not  discussed;  the  Japanese  serv 
ants  were  not  present,  having  been 
given  a  half  holiday.  Oh,  it  was  a 
little  triumph,  that  tea!  Blakely's 
62 


Ct/POXS     UNDERSTUDY 

mother  was  showered  with  congratula 
tions.  The  "Choicest  Flowers"  vied 
with  one  another  in  assurances  of  their 
distinguished  approval. 

Indeed,  they  were  all  crazy  about  it 
— except  the  grand  duke.  Blakely 
said  the  grand  duke  was  bored  to 
death,  and  that  he  had  led  him  off  to 
the  bar  and  given  him  a  whisky-and- 
soda  out  of  sheer  pity.  From  that 
time  on  the  duke  stuck  to  him  like  a 
postage  stamp,  so  that  Blakely  had  an 
awful  time  escaping  that  night  to  dine 
with  Dad  and  me.  He  told  us  all 
about  the  tea  at  dinner,  and  I  was  sur 
prised  to  learn  (I  hadn't  seen  him  yet) 
that  the  duke  was  just  Blakely's  age, 
and,  as  Blakely  put  it,  "a  very  decent 
sort."  Not  that  there  is  any  reason 

63 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDT 

why  a  grand  duke  shouldn't  be  a  de 
cent  sort,  but  Rumor  was  busy  just 
then  proclaiming  that  this  particular 
grand  duke  was  a  perfect  pig. 

The  next  day  I  had  a  chance  to 
judge  for  myself.  It  seems  the  duke 
noticed  me  as  I  got  into  my  automobile 
for  my  morning  ride,  and  after  finding 
out  who  I  was,  sent  for  Blakely  and 
demanded  that  I  be  presented  to 
him. 

Blakely  was  awfully  angry.  He 
said:  "Look  here,  I  don't  know  what 
you've  been  used  to,  but  in  this  coun 
try,  when  a  man  wishes  to  meet  a 
young  lady,  he  asks  to  be  presented  to 
her.  Not  only  that,  but  he  doesn't 
take  it  for  granted  that  she'll  be  hon 
ored  by  the  request.  Miss  Middle- 

64 


SENT  FOR  BLAKELY  AND  DEMANDED  THAT  I   BE  PRESENTED  TO  HIM 

Page  (>4 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

ton  is  my  fiancee.  I  don't  know 
whether  she  cares  to  meet  you  or  not. 
If  she  does,  I'll  let  you  know." 

The  duke  was  terribly  mortified. 
He  apologized  beautifully. 

Then  Blakely  apologized  for  get- 
ting  angry,  and  they  became  better 
friends  than  ever,  with  the  result  that 
the  duke  was  presented  to  me  that  very 
afternoon. 

The  Grand  Duke  Alexander  was 
short  and  fat  and  fair,  with  a  yellow 
mustache  of  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm  va= 
riety.  It  was  rather  a  shock  to  me,  for 
I  had  expected  a  dashing  black-haired 
person  with  flashing  eyes  and  a  com 
manding  presence.  No,  he  wasn't  at 
all  my  idea  of  what  a  grand  duke 
should  look  like ;  he  looked  much  more 

65 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

like  a  little  brother  to  the  ox  (a  well- 
bred,  well-dressed,  bath-loving  little 
brother,  of  course)  than  a  member  of 
an  imperial  family.  Not  that  he 
didn't  have  his  points:  he  had  nice 
hands  and  nice  feet,  and  his  smile  was 
charming. 

You  should  have  seen  his  face  light 
up  when  he  found  I  spoke  French. 
The  poor  fellow  wasn't  a  bit  at  home 
in  the  English  language  and  the  ea 
gerness  with  which  he  plunged  into 
French  was  really  pathetic.  Luck 
ily,  Blakely  spoke  French,  too — not 
very  well,  but  he  understood  it  lots 
better  than  he  spoke  it — so  we  three 
spent  a  pleasant  hour  together  on  the 
veranda.  Of  course,  in  a  way,  it  was 
a  little  triumph  for  me;  the  women 
66 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

whom  Blakely's  mother  had  snubbed 
enjoyed  the  sight  immensely,  and 
when  she  appeared,  accompanied  by 
Mrs.  Sanderson-Spear  and  some  of  the 
''Choicest  Flowers,"  and  saw  what  was 
happening  to  her  duke,  she  was  too 
angry  for  words.  Heavens,  how 
that  woman  did  hate  me  that  after 
noon  ! 

The  next  morning  six  more  "Choic 
est  Flowers"  arrived  from  San  Fran 
cisco  (rare  orchids  whose  grandfathers 
had  come  over  from  Ireland  in  the 
steerage) .  The  third  son  of  an  Eng 
lish  baronet  who  owned  a  chicken- 
ranch  near  Los  Angeles  and  a  German 
count  who  sold  Rhine  wines  to  the 
best  families  also  appeared;  for  that 
night  Blakely's  mother  was  to  give 


such  a  dinner  as  had  never  before  been 
given  in  Santa  Barbara. 
Under  the  heading  : 

SANTA  BARBARA  NOW  THE  MOST 
COSMOPOLITAN    CITY  IN    AMERICA 

an  enterprising  Los  Angeles  newspa 
per  devoted  a  whole  page  to  the  com 
ing  event.  Adjective  was  piled  on  ad 
jective,  split  infinitive  on  split  infini 
tive.  The  dinner  was  to  be  given  in 
the  ballroom  of  the  hotel.  .  .  .  The 
bank  accounts  of  the  assembled  guests 
would  total  $400,000,000.  .  .  . 
The  terrapin  had  been  specially  im 
ported  from  Baltimore.  .  .  .  The 
decorations  were  to  be  magnificent  be 
yond  the  wildest  dream.  .  »  -..  The 
duke  was  to  sit  on  the  right  of  his 
68 


CUPIffS     UNDERSTUDY" 

hostess.  .  .  .  Mr.  Sanderson-Spear, 
the  Pierpont  Morgan  of  Pennsyl 
vania,  who  would  arrive  that  morning 
from  Pittsburg  in  his  private  car, 
would  sit  on  her  left.  .  .  .  Count 
Boris  Beljaski,  intimate  friend  and 
traveling  companion  of  the  grand 
duke,  would  appear  in  the  uniform  of 
the  imperial  guard.  .  .  .  The  Bar 
oness  Reinstadt  was  hurrying  from 
San  Diego,  in  her  automobile.  .  .  . 
As  a  winter  resort,  Santa  Barbara  was, 
as  usual,  eclipsing  Florida,  etc.,  .  .  . 

Blakely  and  I  read  the  paper  to 
gether;  we  laughed  over  it  till  we 
cried. 

"It  would  be  lots  funnier  if  it 
wasn't  my  mother  who  was  making 
such  a  holy  show  of  herself,"  Blakely 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

said.     "Do  you  know,  my  dear — " 
He    was    silent    for    a    moment. 

When  he  did  speak,    there    was    a 

wicked    gleam    in    his    eyes.     "By 

Jove,"  he  cried,  "I'll  doit !" 
"Do  what?"  I  asked. 
"Oh,  nothing  much.     I'll  tell  you 

all  about  it  later — if  there's  anything 

to    tell.     Now    I    must   run    away. 

Good-by,  dear." 


'DO   WHAT?"    I    ASKED 


Page  70 


Chapter  Nine 

At  a  quarter  to  four  I  received  a 
note  from  Blakely  saying  it  would  be 
impossible  for  him  to  come  in  to  tea 
as  he  had  planned.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  ever  broken  an  engage 
ment  with  me,  and  I  was  a  wee  bit  un 
happy  over  it,  though  I  knew,  of 
course,  there  must  be  some  good 
reason  why  he  couldn't  come.  Still, 
his  absence  rather  put  me  out  of  humor 
with  tea,  so  I  sent  Valentine  for  a  box 
of  chocolates.  When  she  returned  I 
sat  down  with  them  and  a  novel,  pre- 
71 


\ 


pared  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  after 
noon  alone. 

The  novel  wasn't  half  as  silly  as 
some  I've  read — the  hero  reminded  me 
of  Blakely — and  the  chocolates  were 
unusually  good;  I  was  having  a  much 
better  time  than  I  had  expected. 
Then  some  one  knocked  at  the  door. 

"Bother!"  I  thought.  "It  can't  be 
anybody  I  wish  to  see;  I'll  not  let 
them  in." 

The  knock  was  repeated.  It  sud 
denly  occurred  to  me  that  maybe 
Blakely  had  changed  his  plans  and 
had  come  for  tea  after  all. 

"Come  in,"  I  called. 

The  door  opened  slowly,  and  there, 
standing  on  the  threshold,  was — 
Had  I  gone  quite  mad?  I  rose  from 
72 


"MAY    I    COME    IN?"  SHE    ASKED,  IN  HER  EVEN,  WELL-BRED    VOICE 

Page  73 


my  chair  and  stared  unbelievingly — 
at  Blakely's  mother. 

"May  I  come  in4?"  she  asked  in  her 
even,  well-bred  voice. 

"Why— yes,"  I  faltered. 

Closing  the  door  behind  her,  she 
walked  over  to  the  fireplace. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  I  asked. 

"No,  I  thank  you.  This  is  not  an 
afternoon  call,  Miss  Middleton,  it  is 
—  But  of  course  you  understand." 

I  didn't  understand  at  all,  and  her 
manner  of  saying  I  did  made  me  fu 
rious. 

"Perhaps  I  am  very  stupid,"  I  said, 
"but  I  cannot  imagine  why  you  are 
here." 

"Do  you  know  where  my  son  is?" 

"I  do  not." 

73 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

"You  have  no  idea*?" 

"I  have  no  idea  where  your  son  is, 
nor  why  you  are  here." 

She  eyed  me  intently.  How  cold 
and  determined  she  looked  and  how 
handsome  she  was. 

"If  I  thought  you  were  telling  tue 
truth—" 

"Mrs.  Porter!" 

She  handed  me  a  letter.  "Please 
read  that,"  she  said. 

"I  will  not  read  it,"  I  replied.  "I 
must  beg  that  you  leave  me." 

"There,  there,  child,  I  did  not  mean 
to  be  rude." 

'You  are  more  than  rude,  you  are 
insolent." 

"I  am  distracted,  child.  Please 
read  the  letter." 

74 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  'Til  read 
it." 

This  was  the  letter : 

"M.Y  DEAR  MOTHER:  This  will  be 
handed  to  you  at  four  o'clock.  At 
that  hour  I  shall  be  in  Ventura,  ac 
companied  by  the  Grand  Duke  Alex 
ander,  and,  as  we  are  making  the  trip 
by  automobile,  it  may  be  that  we  shall 
neither  of  us  return  in  time  for  your 
dinner  this  evening. 

"If,  however,  on  reading  this  you 
will  wire  me  at  Ventura  your  full  con 
sent  to  my  marriage  with  Miss  Mid- 
dleton,  I  think  I  can  guarantee  that 
your  dinner  party  will  be  a  success. 

"I  shall  be  in  Ventura  till  half  past 
four.  Should  I  fail  to  hear  from  you 
by  that  time,  we  shall  continue  our 
journey  toward  Los  Angeles  as  fast  as 
our  six-cylinders  will  take  us. 

"It  grieves  me  more  than  I  can  tell 
you  to  employ  this  cavalier  method 

75 


V 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

against  you,  but  my  softer  appeals 
have  been  in  vain. 

"While  not  a  party  to  the  plot,  the 
duke,  I  find  is  something  of  a  philoso 
pher;  I  do  not  look  for  any  resistance 
on  his  part.  If  he  does  resist,  so  much 
the  worse  for  him. 

"Your  affectionate  son, 

"BLAKELY  PORTER. 

"P.  S.  Please  do  not  think  that 
Miss  Middleton  has  any  knowledge  of 
this  plan.  She  has  not. 

"P.  S.  Remember!  We  leave 
Ventura  for  Los  Angeles  at  4:50  p.m. 
sharp." 

"Mrs.  Porter,"  I  said  when  I  had  fin 
ished  reading  the  letter,  "I  am  deeply 
humiliated  that  Blakely  should  have 
done  this." 

"Still,  I  suppose  you  would  marry 
him  if  I  gave  my  consent." 

"I  would  not,"  I  replied  hotly.  "I 
76 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

might  marry  him  without  your  con 
sent,  for  I  love  him  dearly;  but  I 
would  never  consider  you  had  given 
jour  consent  if  it  were  forced  from 
you  by  trickery." 

"You  wouldn't?' 

"I  would  not." 

"But  if  he  doesn't  bring  the  duke 
back  my  dinner  will  be  ruined." 

"I  will  telegraph  him  myself,"  I 
said. 

"Supposing  he  won't  come?" 

"Blakely  will  come  if  I  ask  him  to." 

"And  you  will  do  this  for  me?" 

"No;  I  am  not  doing  it  for  you." 

"Then  why—" 

"Because  I  cannot  bear  to  have 
Blakely  act  so  ungenerously  toward 
his  mother." 

77 


a/pays    UNDERSTUDY 

"He  has  but  used  my  own  weapons 
against  me,"  she  remarked  thought 
fully. 

"Your  weapons  are  quite  unworthy 
of  him,  Mrs.  Porter." 

"The  telegram  must  be  dispatched 
at  once,"  she  announced,  glancing 
impatiently  at  her  watch. 

"If  you  will  call  the  office  and  ask 
them  to  send  up  a  boy  with  some 
forms,  I  will  think  over  what  I  wish  to 
say,"  I  said. 

When  the  boy  arrived  I  had  de 
cided  upon  my  message.  It  was: 

"BLAKELY  PORTER, 

Ventura. 

If  you  do  not  return  at  once  with 
your  captive  I  shall  consider  that  we 
have  never  met. 

"ELIZABETH." 

78 


\ 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

I  wrote  it  out  on  a  form  and  handed 
it  to  Mrs.  Porter.  "Will  that  do?"  I 
asked. 

She  read  it  at  a  glance.  "Yes,"  she 
said,  "it  will  do.  Here,  boy,  see 
that  this  is  rushed." 

"I'm  glad  it  was  satisfactory,"  I 
said.  "Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  Por 
ter." 

"My  dear  girl.     .     .     ." 

"Good  afternoon,  Mrs.  Porter." 

Still  she  did  not  go.     I  realized  her 

predicament,  and  was  childish  enough 

to     enjoy   it,    for   Blakely's   mother 

could  not  bear  to  accept  a  favor  from 

a  social  inferior.     Had  I  been  a  child, 

she  would  have  patted  me  on  the  head 

and  presented  me  with  a  sugar  plum. 

As  matters  stood  she  was  quite  at  sea; 

79 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

she  wished  to  do  something  gracious 
— she  didn't  know  how. 

To  make  her  position  more  impossi 
ble,  who  should  come  stalking  into  the 
room  but  Dad, — dear,  unsuspecting 
Dad.  When  he  saw  Mrs.  Porter  he 
immediately  jumped  at  a  whole  row 
of  conclusions. 

"Well,  well  well !"  he  said.  "This 
is  a  sight  that  does  me  good.  I'm  very 
glad  indeed  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Porter. 
Your  son  has  had  an  idea  that  you 
were  opposed  to  meeting  Elizabeth, 
but  I  knew  he  couldn't  be  right. 
And  here  you  are,  calling  on  her. 
Well,  well,  wTell!  Elizabeth,  haven't 
you  any  tea  to  offer  Blakely's 
mother?" 

"Mrs.  Porter  was  just  leaving,"  I 
80 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

managed  to  say.  "She  has  been  here 
some  time." 

Dad  beamed  on  us  both. 

"I  told  Blakely,  Elizabeth  couldn't 
marry  him  until  you  consented,"  he 
blundered  on,  "but  now  I  suppose  it 
is  all  arranged.  These  children  of 
ours  are  wonderfully  impatient.  I'm 
as  fond  of  Blakely  as  if  he  were  my 
own  son,  and  you'll  feel  the  same 
about  Elizabeth  when  you've  known 
her  longer." 

"Don't  let  Dad  keep  you,  Mrs.  Por 
ter,"  I  said.  "I'm  sure  you  have  many 
things  to  attend  to." 

Blakely's  mother  who  had  been 
standing  like  one  in  a  dream,  now 
woke  up. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  must  be  going. 
81 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

I  called  informally  on  Elizabeth  to 
beg  you  both  to  come  to  my  dinner  to 
night." 

"I  told  her  we  couldn't  possibly 
come,"  I  began. 

"Nonsense!  Of  course  we  can 
come,"  Dad  declared. 

"It  will  quite  upset  Blakely  if  you 
don't  come,  and  I  shall  be  so  disap 
pointed." 

"There,  there,"  said  Dad,  "you're 
not  going  to  disappoint  Blakely's 
mother  by  refusing." 

"No,"  I  replied.  "If  Mrs.  Porter 
really  wants  us  we  shall  be  delighted 
to  come." 

"If  either  of  you  fails  me  it  will 
make  me  most  unhappy"  she  said, 
82 


CUPIffS     UNDERSTUDY* 

and  there  was  a  note  of  sincerity  in 
her  voice  that  was  unmistakable. 

"Thank  you,"  I  murmured.     "We 
shall  not  fail  you." 


Chapter  Ten 

When  Blakely  returned  with  the 
grand  duke,  he  came  straight  to  me. 
What  he  expected  was  an  explana 
tion;  what  he  actually  received  was 
the  worst  scolding  of  his  life.  But 
the  poor  boy  was  so  apologetic  and  so 
humble,  I  finally  relented,  and  kissed 
him,  and  told  him  all  about  his  moth 
er's  call,  and  its  surprising  conse 
quences. 

"I  suppose  I  should  be  grateful,"  I 
said,  "but  the  idea  of  going  to  the 
ducal  dinner  fills  me  with  rage." 

''Let's  be  ill,  and  dine  together." 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

"I  can't,  I've  given  my  word.  And 
then  there's  Dad;  he  feels  now 
that  all  the  prophecies  he  has  uttered 
in  regard  to  your  mother  have  at  last 
come  true.  It's  only  my  wicked  pride 
that's  talking,  dear.  Please  don't  pay 
any  attention  to  it." 

And  then  Blakely  said  one  of  the 
sweetest  things  he  ever  said  to  me. 
Of  course,  it  wasn't  true  but  it  made 
me  so  happy.  "Dearest,"  he  said 
"everything  I  should  love  best  to  be, 
you  are." 

Before  dressing  for  dinner,  Dad 
came  to  my  room  "to  talk  things  over," 
as  he  put  it.  He  was  so  superbly  sat 
isfied  with  himself  and  the  world,  I 
could  hardly  forbear  a  smile. 

85 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

"Naturally,  I  should  be  the  last 
person  to  say  'I  told  you  so',  Eliza 
beth,  but  you  see  what  patience  ha3 
done.  It  is  always  best  to  be  patient, 
my  child." 

"Yes,  Dad." 

"Blakely's  mother  has  acted  very 
handsomely  toward  us,  considering — " 

"Very handsomely,  considering"  I 
agreed. 

"And  we  must  try  to  meet  her  half 
way." 

"Yes,  Dad." 

"No  doubt  she  had  her  reasons  for 
behaving  as  she  did." 

"I'm  sure  of  it." 

"You  see,  my  dear,  I've  understood 
the  situation  from  the  very  first." 

"You  sweet  old  simpleton,  of  course 
86 


you  have !  But  here  it  is  half  past 
seven,  and  you  haven't  begun  to 
dress.  Be  off  with  you." 

Although,  at  first,  I  had  felt  it 
would  be  all  but  impossible  for  me  to 
attend  Mrs.  Porter's  dinner,  my  talk 
with  Blakely  had  so  raised  my  spirits 
that  now  I  was  able  to  face  the  ordeal 
with  something  very  like  serenity. 
What  did  it  matter?  What  did  any 
thing  matter,  so  long  as  Blakely  loved 
me?  Then,  too,  I  knew  I  was  looking 
my  very  best;  my  white  lace  gown  was 
a  dream;  Valentine  had  never  done 
my  hair  so  becomingly. 

When  Blakely  called  at  our  rooms 
for  Dad  and  me,  I  was  not  at  all  un 
happy.  And  the  dear  boy  was  so 
relieved  to  see  it!  I  will  confess, 

8? 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY* 

however,  to  one  moment  of  real  terror 
as  we  approached  the  drawing  room 
where  we  were  to  join  our  hostess. 
But  her  greeting  was  most  cordial  and 
reassuring.  And  when  she  begged 
me  to  stand  up  with  her,  and  help  her 
receive  her  guests,  I  almost  felt  at 
home,  for  I  knew  it  meant  her  sur 
render  was  unconditional. 

After  that,  it  was  like  a  beautiful 
dream.  Except  that  some  of  the 
"Choicest  Flowers"  of  San  Francisco 
society  were  fearfully  and  fashion- 
v  ably  late,  nothing  occurred  to  disturb 
the  social  atmosphere.  And  when, 
on  entering  the  dining  room,  I  saw 
how  the  guests  were  placed,  I  could 
have  hugged  Blakely's  mother.  For 
where  do  you  suppose  she  had  put 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

Dad?  On  her  left!  Of  course,  the 
duke,  as  guest  of  honor,  was  on  her 
right;  and  I  sat  next  to  the  duke,  and 
Blakely  sat  next  to  me. 

By  placing  us  so,  Mrs.  Porter  had 
supplied  the  balance  of  the  table  with 
a  topic  of  conversation,  always  a  de 
sirable  addition  to  a  dinner  party;  I 
noted  with  amusement  the  lifted  eye 
brows,  the  expressions  of  wonder  and 
resentment  on  the  faces  of  some  of 
the  guests.  Nor  did  it  seem  to  add 
to  their  pleasure  that  their  hostess  de 
voted  herself  to  Dad,  while  the  duke 
and  Blakely  developed  a  spirited, 
though  friendly,  rivalry  as  to  which 
should  monopolize  little  Mimi. 

But  the  real  sensation  was  to  occur 
when  the  champagne  was  poured.  (I 


could  hardly  believe  my  eyes,  or  my 
ears,  either) .  For  who  should  rise  in 
his  place  but  Dad!  Yes,  there  he 
stood,  the  old  darling,  a  brimming 
champagne  glass  in  his  hand,  a  bea 
tific  expression  on  his  face.  And  this 
is  what  he  was  saying : 

"Our  hostess  has  asked  me  to  do 
something,  which  is  to  announce  the 
engagement  of  my  daughter  and  her 
son.  Let  us  drink  to  their  happiness." 

"Bravo!"  cried  the  Duke.  "I  give 
the  American  three  cheers.  Rah,  rah, 
rah!" 

"How  delightfully  boyish  the  dear 
Duke  is,"  observed  Mrs.  Sanderson- 
Spear,  beaming  at  him  from  across  the 
table. 

"So  ingenious,  I  mean  so  ingenu- 
90 


CUPIffS     UNDERSTUDY 

ous,"  assented  a  languid  lady  from 
San  Francisco.  "But  we  must  stand 
up;  toute  le  monde  is  standing  up,  my 
dear." 

And  so  it  was,  standing  up  to  drink 
our  healths,  Blakely's  and  mine, 
while  Blakely  held  my  hand  under  the 
table. 

"Bravo!"  cried  the  Duke.  "It  ees 
delightful.  I  cannot  make  the 
speech,  mais,  mademoiselle,  monsieur 
— I  drink  your  health."  He  drained 
his  glass,  then  flung  it,  with  a  mag 
nificent  gesture,  over  his  shoulder. 
"It  ees  so  we  drink  to  royalty,"  he 
said. 

Such  a  noble  example  naturally  had 
its  effect;  there  followed  a  perfect 
shower  of  glasses.  Indeed,  I  think 

91 


CUPID'S     UNDERSWDy 

every  one  at  the  table  indulged  in  this 
pretty  piece  of  extravagance  except 
the  third  son  of  an  English  baronet, 
who  was  too  busy  explaining  how  it 
was  done  at  home:  "Purely  a  Brit 
ish  custom,  you  understand — the 
wardroom  of  a  man-of-war,  d'ye  see. 
— They  were  officers  of  a  Scotch  reg 
iment,  and  they  drank  it  standing  on 
their  chairs,  with  one  foot  on  the  table. 
And,  by  gad,  I  didn't  care  for  it!" — 
No  doubt  I  should  have  learned  more 
concerning  this  purely  British  custom 
if  the  Pierpont  Morgan  of  Pennsyl 
vania  hadn't  called  on  Blakely  for  a 
speech,  just  then.  Poor  Blakely!  He 
didn't  know  at  all  how  to  make  a 
speech.  Though  I  must  say  I  was 
rather  glad  of  it;  the  most  tiresome 
92 


CUPID'S     UNDlRSTUDy 

thing  about  Americans  is  their  eternal 
speechmaking,  I  think. 

Blakely  having  faltered  his  few 
words  of  thanks,  some  one  proposed 
the  duke's  health;  but  that  had  to  wait 
till  new  glasses  were  brought  in  and 
filled.  Altogether,  then,  instead  of 
being  a  solemn,  dignified  affair,  such 
as  one  might  have  expected,  it  was  a 
tremendously  jolly  dinner — a  little 
rowdy,  perhaps,  but  delightfully 
friendly. 

If  I  had  entered  the  dining  room 
as  Old  Tom  Middleton's  daughter, 
"who  actually  used  to  live  over  a  liv 
ery  stable,  my  dear,"  it  was  not  so  I 
left  it;  for  the  nimbus  of  the  sacred 
name  of  Porter  had  already  begun  to 
shed  its  beautiful  light  on  my  many 

93 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY" 

graces  and  social  accomplishments. 
Indeed,  when  I  retired  with  my  host 
ess  to  the  drawing  room,  it  was  to  hold 
a  sort  of  reception;  Mrs.  Tudor  Car- 
stairs  vied  with  Mrs.  Sanderson-Spear 
in  assurances  of  regard,  "Choicest 
Flowers"  expressed  approval,  the 
German  baroness,  bless  her,  conferred 
the  distinction  of  a  motherly  kiss. 
And  Blakely's  mother  was  so  gracious, 
so  kind  and  considerate,  it  was  hard 
to  believe  we  had  faced  each  other, 
five  hours  before,  with  something  very 
like  hatred  in  our  eyes. 

When  Blakely  and  Dad,  and  the 
other  men  joined  us,  I  was  so  happy 
I  could  have  kicked  both  my  slippers 
to  the  ceiling.  I  might  have  disgraced 

94 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

myself  doing  it,  too,  if  the  third  son 
of  the  English  baronet  hadn't  come  up 
just  then  to  felicitate  me.  He  would 
have  done  it  charmingly  if  he  hadn't 
felt  constrained  to  add  that  Americans 
always  say  "dook"  instead  of  "duke," 
that  nobody  present  seemed  to  realize 
the  proper  way  to  address  a  nephew 
of  the  Czar  was  to  call  him  Monseig- 
neur^  that  the  Olympic  games  in  Lon 
don  had  been  conducted  admirably, 
and  that  he  didn't  believe  in  marriage, 
anyway. 

But  the  sweetest  thing  to  me  of  all 
that  wonderful  evening  was  to  see  the 
love  and  gratitude  in  Blakely's  eyes 
when  he  looked  at  his  mother;  for  a 
man  who  doesn't  love  his  mother 

95 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

misses  much,  and  I  love  Blakely  so 
tenderly,  I  couldn't  bear  to  have  him 
'miss  the  least  thing  that  makes  for 
contentment  and  happiness. 


Chapter  Eleven 

When  I  awoke,  late  next  morning, 
it  was  to  find  myself,  if  not  famous, 
at  least  conspicuous;  in  the  Los  An 
geles  newspaper  Valentine  brought 
me  with  my  coffee,  much  space  was 
devoted  to  the  ducal  dinner. 

GRAND  DUKE  SMASHES 
CHAMPAGNE  GLASSES 

Miss  Middleton  Toasted  in 
Truly  Royal  Fashion  by  Distin 
guished  Nephew  of  Russia's 

Reigning  Czar. 

Brilliant  Dinner  Reaches  Climax 
in  Shower  of  Costly  Crystal 
While  Hostess  Smiles  Approval. 

97 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

Disgusting  as  it  was,  I  couldn't  help 
laughing  at  the  pen-and-ink  sketch 
which  accompanied  it — a  sketch  of  the 
duke,  with  crowned  head,  and  breast 
covered  with  decorations,  smiling  fat 
uously  from  within  a  rakish  border  of 
broken  champagne  glasses. 

But  there  was  worse  to  come.  On 
another  page  under  the  heading 

WHIRLWIND  WOOING 
WINS  WESTERN  GIRL 

a  distorted  Cupid  supported  pictures 
of  Blakely  and  me,  while  beneath  our 
pictures,  a  most  fulsome  chronicle  of 
untruths  was  presented.  "Mr.  Por 
ter  first  met  his  fiancee  on  shipboard. 
.  .  .  Being  of  that  fine  old  New 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

York  stock  which  never  takes  'no'  for 
an  answer,  he  followed  her  to  Santa 
Barbara.  ...  If  rumor  is  to  be 
credited,  the  Grand  Duke  Alexander, 
as  well  as  Cupid,  was  concerned  in 
this  singularly  up-to-date  love  affair. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Porter's  sister,  the  Count 
ess  de  Bienville,  is  a  well-known 
leader  in  exclusive  Parisian  circles. 
.  .  .  Miss  Middleton  an  only 
daughter  of  Thomas  Middleton,  the 
mining  magnate.  .  .  .  Although 
slightly  indisposed,  His  Imperial 
Highness  granted  an  interview  to  our 
representative  late  last  evening.  If 
the  time-worn  adage,  in  vino  veritas, 
is  to  be  believed,  it  is  certain  that  the 
wedding  will  not  only  take  place  soon, 

99 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDy 

but  that  the  favorite  nephew  of  the 
Czar  of  all  the  Russias  will  himself 
appear  in  this  charming  romance  of 
throbbing  hearts,  playing  the  role  of 
best  man." 

It  was  really  too  dreadful;  my 
cheeks  burned  with  mortification  and 
anger. 

People  had  assured  me  the  horrid 
little  American  newspaper  published 
in  Paris  was  not  typical  of  America 
— that  it  was  no  more  than  a  paid 
panderer  to  seekers  after  notoriety. 
Yet  here  in  California,  my  own  dear 
California,  a  newspaper  had  dared 
print  my  picture  without  asking  my 
consent,  had  thrown  its  ugly  light  on 
the  sweet  story  of  my  love,  serving  it 
up  in  yellow  paragraphs  for  the  bene- 
100 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

fit  of  the  bootblack,  the  butcher,  the 
waiter  in  cheap  restaurants. 
What  a  hideous  world! 

Pleading  a  sick  headache,  I  stayed 
in  my  room  till  tea  time. 

We  had  tea  at  five,  Blakely  and  I, 
on  the  roof  of  the  hotel.  I  looked 
across  the  channel  to  the  distant  is 
lands,  followed  the  sweet  contour  of 
the  shore,  watched  the  aimless  flight 
of  sea-gulls;  turning,  I  scanned  the 
friendly  hills,  the  mountains  painted 
in  the  tender  colors  of  late  afternoon 
— I  looked  into  Blakely's  eyes.  It 
was  a  beautiful  world,  after  all. 

"Let's  try  and  forget  that  awful 
newspaper,"  I  said. 

"I  forgot  it  long  ago,  dear." 

"You  also  seem  to  have  forgotten 
101 


V 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

that  some  one  may  appear  any  min 
ute." 

"Let's  try  and  forget  that  some  one 
may  appear  any  minute." 

"I  can't." 

"You  shouldn't  say  1  can't/  Eliza 
beth;  you  should  say  Til  try'." 

It  is  really  surprising  what  one  can 
do  when  one  tries. 


102 


Chapter  Twelve 

"What  would  we  have  done  with 
out  the  duke?"  I  murmured  a  moment 
later. 

"There's  a  more  important  question 
than  that  to  be  answered,"  said 
Blakely;  "we  have  still  to  decide  what 
we  shall  do  with  the  duke." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"It's  my  charming  way  of  breaking 
news  gently,  sweetheart." 

"Bad  news?" 

"Not  exactly.  It  may  annoy  you." 
103 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

"It  annoys  me  that  you  seem  afraid 
to  tell  it,"  I  said. 

"I'm  not  afraid,  not  the  least  bit. 
I'm  a  little  ashamed,  though.  You 
see,  mother  is  .  .  ." 

"Don't  dare  adopt  an  apologiz 
ing  attitude  towards  your  mother. 
Hasn't  she  done  everything  in  the 
world  for  us*?" 

''There  are  some  things  one  would 
rather  do  for  oneself,  girlie.  I  had 
quite  set  my  heart  on  Perry  Arnold  be 
ing  best  man  at  our  wedding." 

"And  so  he  shall  be." 

"I  wrote  him  a  week  ago,  and  his 
answer  came  this  morning.  He  was 
delighted,  poor  chap!  He's  in  Den 
ver,  now,  and  could  be  here  in  three 
days." 

104 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

"You  won't  need  him  for  three 
months,"  I  warned.  "But  why  can't 
you  have  him,  dear?" 

"Because  mother  has  already  en 
gaged  the  duke  in  that  capacity." 

"Not  really?" 

"It's  the  gospel  truth.  Perry  will 
think  me  no  end  of  a  snob.  I  won't 
know  what  explanation  to  make." 

"Nonsense!  I'll  explain  it  to  him 
myself." 

"Then  you  feel  I  ought  to  accept 
mother's  arrangements?" 

"You  must,  if  it  will  make  her 
happy." 

"She  assured  me  she  would  be  most 
miserable  if  I  didn't." 

"Then  it's  settled,"  I  said. 

"That's  not  all,  Elizabeth;  the  duke 
105 


CUPID'S     UNDERSTUDY 

is  sailing  for  Japan  on  the  twenty- 
sixth  of  February." 

"And  this  is  the  twentieth!"  I 
gasped. 

:'Yes,  sweetheart.  And  mother  has 
arranged  our  wedding  for  the  twenty- 
fourth." 

I  was  silent  from  sheer  indignation. 

"I  told  mother  you  wouldn't  like 
it.  But  will  you  .  .  .?  Do  you 
.  .  .?  Would  you  mind  very  much 
being  married  on  the  twenty-fourth?" 

"Would  you  mind?"  I  asked. 

"Mind?  I  should  love  it  above 
everything !  Life  is  so  uncertain,  each 
day  is  so  precious,  and  I've  waited  so 
long  for  you,  Elizabeth." 

"You've  only  known  me  a  little 
over  a  month." 

106 


OfflZS     UNDERSTUDY* 

"But  I've  waited  years  for  you." 

:'Yes,"  I  said,  "I  believe  you  have. 
It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  dear." 

And  then,  as  a  woman's  greatest 
happiness  lies  in  making  the  man  she 
loves  happy,  and  as  no  one  ever  looked 
so  radiantly  happy  as  Blakely,  I  was 
so  glad  I  had  said  "yes'"  I  didn't  know 
what  to  do. 

But  Blakely  knew  exactly  what  to 
do;  he  kissed  me. 


THE   END 


A    000120199    5 


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